


this here and now with you is how

by madfatty



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 05:32:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madfatty/pseuds/madfatty
Summary: tumblr anon prompt"I wish you would write a fic where Finn is so overcome with emotion as he and Rae speed towards the rave on the scooter that he pulls over and blurts out his true feelings."





	this here and now with you is how

If you’d asked Finn that morning how he thought the day would go, it would be nothing like this. It’s not how his life usually works, but as he’s about to discover, the universe hasn’t completely given up on him just yet. 

He’s spent the morning moping about the house, growing more and more disheartened with every passing hour, the prospect of the rave without Rae sitting heavy on him. He needs to find a way to tell Chop and the others that he’s changed his mind about going, without Chop making a big deal out of it and maybe saying something to Rae before Finn gets the chance to. He’s working himself up to calling her and seeing if she wants to hang out, at the pub or the chippy, or even here at his. He’ll walk up and down the high street for three hours window shopping, or sit in her room and silently watch her read all night. Whatever, wherever she wants, as long as it’s the two of them. 

He keeps sideling up to the phone, as if he’s trying to take it by surprise. He picks up the receiver and dials the first four digits of her number before hanging up and scuttling back to the safety of the front room. To his great relief, attempt number eight is interrupted by a knock at the door and suddenly the girl in question is standing on his front step, shrugging her way past him and apologising for showing up unannounced. He’s had fantasies that started like this.  


Rae tells him she’s had a huge, hurtful, screaming row with her mum, so awful that she threw some things in her backpack and slammed the door behind her, with no idea where she was going. She says she just started walking and before she knew it, she was outside his house. She hopes he doesn’t mind.

Mind? Finn knows it’s bad and that she’s upset but he can’t stop smiling. She’s come to him. Not Chloe, not Archie; him. His face is starting to hurt. He has to drag himself away, offering tea so he can get himself together, but it’s no good; a glimpse of his reflection in the kitchen window while he waits for the kettle to boil only proves how horribly he’s failing.  


When Gary strolls into the kitchen on the lookout for a cuppa and a biscuit, Finn doesn’t even pretend to hide his excitement.

Gary knows all about Finn’s romantic woes, since the evening, not two weeks ago, when a very drunk Finn had come home fed up and forlorn after a particularly dismal night at the pub of not snogging Rae. It had taken very little prompting on Gary’s part for a weepy Finn to share the whole sad and sorry tale. He been supportive and sympathetic and a little damp eyed himself, so it’s hardly surprising that this latest development has Gary wearing a grin to match his own.

There’s an embarrassing but endearing bum wiggling dad-dance that would normally have him groaning, but all is forgiven when Gary offers to go and make up the spare room for Rae. It earns him a fierce bear hug and the last of the Hobnobs. The pair stop short of high-fiving each other, but continue giggling like three year olds. It takes Finn another couple of minutes to compose himself before he can head back upstairs. He really should be at least a little bit ashamed of just how pleased with himself he’s feeling, but he’s not. She picked him.

Before she can change her mind, he calls to tell Chop that there’s been a change of plans; Rae isn’t just going with them, she’s stopping at his _(That’s right, Chop. Rae Earl is staying at mine. How’s things with Izzy?),_ so Chop’s going to have to collect Chloe, because of course, Rae will be riding with Finn. Even Finn can concede that the thrill it gives him to say those words out loud is borderline pathetic. He’s still buzzing when he hangs up midway through Chop’s razzing him for finally making a move. 

The thought of her getting ready behind his bathroom door has Finn reciting starting line ups from the last ten Cup finals and trying not to touch himself. He has to hold his shirt down in front of him quickly when she appears shyly at his bedroom door, all powdered and perfumed in the prettiest blue dress and leggings. It’s an awkward shuffle past her to his turn in the bathroom where he’s immediately enveloped in a sweet scented cloud of her making, and he spends the next three and a half minutes moaning her name into a washcloth while the hot water runs. 

+++

She’d start an argument in an empty room, he used to gripe to anyone who’d listen, but it’s mostly him she seems to argue with, and he doesn’t pretend to not know why. It was all his fault, them not getting along from the beginning.  


He’s always been a bit shit about new people and by the time he’d figured out he’d fucked up, she’d decided she didn’t want a bar of him either, and the more he tried to fix it, the worse it got. Every time she’d make an effort he’d get all flustered and think she was taking the piss and he’d snark at her, earning her silent, seething ire and even the pursed-lipped disapproval of the gang. So he couldn’t really blame her when her response to his feeble, yet heartfelt attempts to make amends the next time he saw her was to snap and snarl and roll her eyes.

Thankfully, he stopped being quite the dickhead and she eventually took pity on him. Now they’re friends. He wants them to be more, and he wishes he knew if she did too. It keeps him awake nights, trying to figure out if she likes him as much as he likes her. It’s so hard to tell sometimes. 

It’s easier in his fantasies. She leaves no room for doubt there. 

+++

Not an hour goes by where he’s not thinking about Rae Earl. 

The sun is warm on his bare skin but it’s nothing to the heat coming from Rae’s gaze. She doesn’t like football, she’s said it a million times and yet here she is, sat in the middle of a beautiful summer Sunday watching him intently, albeit surreptitiously. 

It’s just a friendly kick-about with some of the lads but skill will always out, and he makes a blinding break down the length of the whole field. He’s so fast, none of his team can keep up with him and he has to go it alone. The opposition are so flummoxed by his dexterity that the goal he scores is inevitable and nothing short of poetry. 

The tiny crowd of assembled friends goes wild and Finn waves humbly in their direction.

Out of the corner of his eye he catches Rae on the move. One minute she’s sitting on the sidelines pretending to read (he knows she’s pretending because he hasn’t seen her turn a page since he took his shirt off) and the next she’s walking straight across the pitch. The other lads have to run round her as she cuts a determined path directly to him. He’s all sweaty from scoring his goal and he’s pretty sure he smells but it doesn’t stop her. In front of God and everyone she wraps him up in the tightest of hugs. This time she uses both arms, it’s not just an awkward pat on the back and when he chances to squeeze her, she squeezes him back. Her breath is hot on his already overheated skin when she whispers, ‘I have to have you. Now. Fancy coming back to mine?’ He doesn’t even stop to pick up his shirt.

Or he’s sitting across from her in the pub when she goes off on one, her perfect mouth going a mile-a-minute as she rants and raves, holding everyone around her in her sway. She is majestic and unstoppable and everybody wants her. He takes a shallow sip of his beer, licks at the foam on his lips, and in a strong, sure voice that carries through the pub, says something inflexibly flirty and devastatingly funny and Rae is undone. She reaches for him across the glass strewn table, knocking over drinks in her haste to get to him. The pub erupts in catcalls and cheers and he smiles in the knowledge that every man in that room wishes they were him.

Sometimes they’re in his room, just the two of them and he’s searching for the perfect record to tell her how he feels. He’s spouting some insightful and practiced nonsense about the band or a particular song or whatever and she’s suddenly overcome by how smart and cool he is and Rae can no longer keep her hands off him. Many an album has suffered in this scenario, as she throws him up against the wall to have her way with him. No matter that the stylus skates heavily across the imaginary vinyl causing irreparable damage. In Finn’s mind, there is no sacrifice too great for the taste of Rae’s kiss.

That’s one of his favourites, because after the mind bending, body melting sex, it’s just them lying on his bed, the room full of music and his arms full of her. He can look at her as long as he wants. He gets to hold her, and listen to all her secrets and tell her all of his, and when she goes, he can still smell her on his pillow.

Finn’s got a million of them, lots of little dreams to shore him up and keep him going on those days when nothing else can. 

There is a pain, a tiny little hurt, an ache that he carries every day. It’s sits in his chest, in his throat, in his belly and it belongs to her. It flares when she’s with him and it screams when she’s not. It’s not a sad thing, at least he doesn’t think so. It has a sweetness and a softness that soothes and comforts him. He wouldn’t know himself without it now. It’s how he knows he’s alive.

+++

The Lou Reed line drifts in and out, too impatient to wait it’s turn among the other thoughts in the loop tumbling around head, _Bright blue and yellow. Green apples. Happy._ It feels like forever since he’s held anything as sharp and real as the hope that’s filling him now, the promise of something wonderful a definite taste on his tongue. The road rolls out before them, straightforward and clear and he follows it eagerly.

What if he just keeps driving? Down this road as far as it will take them and then onto the next, with Rae wrapped around him for warmth, for safety, forever. Into the dark, into another place where he can have this all the time.

He’s not going that fast, but her hands tighten around him until her fingers lock together and her palms are flat across his chest. She shifts a little further forward until all he can feel is all of her pressed up close behind him and the poke of her pixie chin resting on his shoulder. 

Finn’s heart is tilted so far forward in his chest it’s up against his ribs and the butterflies in his belly are doing cartwheels. He may be about to black out. The scooter jerks and swerves. He can’t keep his eyes on the road or his hands still on the throttle. Everything in him is drawn to the girl at his back. If he doesn’t tell her now, they’re going to crash. There’s a stretch of road just up ahead that’s shaded by an avenue of trees. At the first opportunity he pulls over onto the grass verge and stops the bike. 

“What happened, what’s wrong? Is the bike broken?” Rae frets, as she steps off the back of the scooter.

“No. I… I just,” he begins, shaking off his helmet.

“Then why did we stop?” She’s standing there with her hands on her hips, her helmet still on and framing the soft roundness of her face. God, she’s adorable. It takes him a second or two to answer her.

“You need to know something.”

“Are we out of petrol? Did you get us lost?” The worry is gone from her voice and she slips back into her teasing tone. Always teasing. 

“No. We’re not out of petrol and we’re not lost. I need to tell you something.” 

“It couldn’t wait till we got there?” 

“No. I have to tell you now. While we’re on our own.” 

“We’ve been on our own all afternoon, you could’ve…” She’s still teasing, and he does like it, but there are times when he wishes she didn’t feel the need to fill the air with noise. When she’d see that he just needs a moment to get there and he’ll tell her what she wants to know. It comes so easy to her, she’s so sure of everything, maybe she thinks it’s easy for everyone.

“Please, shut up Rae. I need you to shut up and listen to me. Christ,” he groans, “I can’t breathe.”

“Oh God, Finn. Sit! Sit! Put your head between your knees.”

“I don’t need to…”

“Put your head between your knees, Finn. Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth… slowly.”

“Just stop!” Finn’s hands fly up, a barrier between them, a physical attempt to stop the flow of her words. He might have been a little too loud and a little too adamant. He’s not cross, just desperate to get her attention. He’d hoped it would be obvious but from the look on her face, he’s doubtful. 

He’s long been a fan of her facial gymnastics, he has an actual list of his top ten favourites and if the stakes weren’t so high, he’d be admiring the current set of acrobatics that are rapidly manifesting themselves into an impressive expression of outrage. There’ll be no way back from it if she gets a full head of steam so he’s got to get in first. It’s now or never.  


“What you need to know is; I like you Rae. A lot. Proper, full-on, hand-holding, snogging, you’re-the-one-for-me ‘fancy’ and I _think_ you might fancy me too, well I hope you do, but I can’t tell for sure.”

There was a plan. He’d had a plan and this was not it. In all the time he’d practiced this, never once did he imagine that it would be happening by the side of the road. Shit. And now he’s lost control of his hands and his feet. He’s pacing up and down like a mad man and waving his hands about but he can’t stop moving. 

“I was going to wait to see how tonight went, but today has been so amazingly perfect and I figured if I wait, I’m gonna blow it. I’ll do something or I’ll say something stupid and it’ll cock everything up and I don’t want everything cocked up, I’m sick of everything getting cocked up. I just want to be with you, Rae. That’s all I want and I don’t want anything to get in the way. Not me, not our friends; not anything, because, because…” He stops in front of her, scared shitless because he could be about to commit romantic suicide, but he needs to see her face when he says this next bit, “I think we belong together Rae.” 

He’s compiled a list (another one, he has many), collecting all their similarities like some cheesy TV detective in the hope that she’ll see they are meant for each other. He’d had thoughts of introducing the contents of his list gradually, over a period of time but he’s about to burn up the first four or five casual ‘me too’ conversations due to blind panic, because she’s starting to open her mouth. She’s not supposed to talk yet.

“Listen Rae, just listen.” And there go his hands again, waving frantically between them, without his permission “We’re the same, you and me. You bite your nails, I bite my nails too.” It’s not the strongest of openings, but he can still feel her hands on his chest and his are flapping about like landed fish and it’s the first thing that comes to mind. The pacing starts again. “We have all the same posters on our walls. You can talk shit about music for hours; no, not shit, stuff, smart stuff, and music is the one thing I feel confident talking about because I know my stuff too. You always choose pickled onion flavoured Monster Munch. Pickled onion is _my,_ favourite. I’ve got a whole drawer full of tazos saved for you because I know you collect them.” 

“You prefer Q to the NME and you think Select and Melody Maker are okay but Vox is a try-hard Q and you never buy Smash Hits ever,” he forces himself to look at her. Her eyes are so wide he has to look away again or he’s never going to get it all out. “It’s just for nicking the posters out of in the newsagents if there’s anyone decent in them. And you’re right. About all of it.” He’s rambling, he can hear it, but it’s so important that she knows. He studies the flattened grass beneath his boots for a moment before he continues. 

"And, and… we dress the same.” He stumbles here, his voice breaking just a little because this one makes him giddy. They wear the same uniform, and it has to mean something. It’s partly how he recognised her. When he thinks about her red flannel shirt and how he has one almost exactly the same… the idea that it could be one of his shirts she’s wearing, that it would still be warm from the heat of her… it’s one of his favourite thoughts. 

At some point, she’s taken off her helmet while he wasn’t looking. He’s looking at her now. It’s cooler here under the trees, but her face is still flushed. Her hair is flat against her head except for the bits that the breeze has stirred up. It’s caught the hem of her dress too and her frustration at trying to contain them both is evident, but there’s an underlying agitation he knows has nothing to do with the wind. There’s an anxiousness about her, something that says she wants to run. He rushes on. 

“But it’s not just that. The sameness. There’s loads of things, Rae. How independent you are. You never just follow along and you can exist outside the rest of us.” His voice is lower, he’d been excitable with the urgency of the situation before, and it had all come pouring out at high speed and possibly top volume, but now the seriousness of what he’s saying sets in. He wishes he were physically closer to her, but she may not be quite ready for that yet so he stays where he is. “How smart you are, and brave. And fierce and kind. And how you look after everyone. How you looked after me the night Nan died. I don’t think I would have got through that night, or the funeral, if it wasn’t for you. Did I ever say thank you? I hope so. I’ve thought it a million times since.” 

It’s no good. In his room, where he’s practiced this a hundred times, he’s already touching her by now, but she’s still so far away. On shaky legs he takes a deliberate step forward and waits. 

“Have I said pretty? Because you are Rae, so, so pretty. Sometimes, when I’m looking at you, I forget to breathe.” He can’t breathe now. While he was speaking he didn’t dare look at her and now that he’s stopped, he can’t look away. Her hands are knots, one around the strap of the motorcycle helmet, which she’s banging painfully against her knees and the other, still gripping the hem of her dress, is clawing at her thigh. 

He’s never seen her lost for something to say before. It’s probably the shock, which Finn can understand, as he’s a little stunned himself. It’s killing him not knowing what she’s thinking, but he doesn’t dare ask. 

“Is this a joke? Is that meant to be funny?” she says finally, her face a sour twist. 

“Jesus no, Rae. I’ve never been more serious in my life.” He thought he’d been very clear. What did he miss? What didn’t he say? 

_Well done fuck-face. Happy now? You’ve broken her. Any other time you can’t string two words together, now you can’t shut up, and she thinks you’re joking._

He’s not stupid, despite recent appearances. In the beginning, he let his wariness and his mistrust override his good sense and so everything that came from his mouth was petty and catty and cruel. Since then, he’s fought so hard for her to like him that he rarely says anything at all in case it’s the wrong thing. He’d hoped the impression he gave off is of the thoughtful, strong, silent type, but he’s afraid he just comes across as thick and surly. 

Before Rae, he always thought of himself as maybe kind of cool, but she reminds him who he really is, some saddo teenage boy trying desperately, and failing miserably, to impress someone infinitely cooler. 

It’s such a specific feeling, this thing for her that’s been growing steadily inside him for weeks now and he knows what it is. He’s not sure if the feeling is enough though. He knows he should tell her before someone else comes along, someone smarter, who sees what he sees and who can say the words in just the right way so she’ll get how amazing she is, because Finn’s been trying to tell her through touch when maybe what Rae needs is the words. 

He didn’t mean to hit her with it all at once, he was going to take it slow. The latest plan, formulated in the bathroom while he got his breath back, was to spend tonight glued to her side, take every opportunity to touch her, to finally let her know how much he feels, but when he started, he couldn’t stop. 

The hope that filled him and encouraged him to speak up wobbles at the look on her face. She looks like she’s trying not to cry. This is not how this was supposed to go. 

“I… I’m sorry, Rae. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll, I’ll take it all back if it’s not what you want, if I got it all wrong.” He can feel the panic rise as his world falls. He’s going to lose her. She’s going to break his heart. “I like you so, so much Rae, please don’t say we can’t be friends. That I can’t be around you. I know I’m an idiot and I’ve probably ruined everything, but please don’t say that.” 

She’s fidgeting with the strap of her helmet but her eyes are locked on the grass beneath her. She’s quiet for the longest time, each second drags heavy before the next. More than ever, he wishes he knew what she was thinking. And the next moment, there’s that steel he knows and loves. Rae takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. She stands more solidly on the ground. The looks she gives him is of reservation and resolve. 

“Finn…” she stops. She starts again. “So do you mean you…” she swallows thickly, “want to… that you really… fancy me? That you want to snog me?” 

“For starters.” His smile is small and tentative at first until his face gets the better of him and he can no longer contain it. It splits sharply in two. “I want to snog you senseless,” he confirms eagerly, “all day, every day, and buy you chips and make you mixed tapes and hold your hand…” 

With each new declaration, Finn inches closer, until she’s within his reach. He leans in slowly because she hasn’t said yes yet, and he doesn’t want to count his chickens. The helmet she’s still holding comes away from her grasp with the lightest of tugs. Finn throws it behind him and it bounces noisily off the back of the scooter. Oh so gently, he takes the tips of her fingers between his and smiles at their ragged edges. 

“Well, go on then, if you’re going to.” She whispers, her eyes crinkling. It’s a challenge, just like she is and he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s one of the million things he likes about her, it’s on more than one of his lists, but what he also likes is that it’s coloured by a hint of nervousness that stirs a tiny hope in him that he may not be the only one who’s thought a lot about them doing this before. There’s nothing but a breath between them and then there’s not even that. It’s the softest of touches, his lips on hers, and he’s lost. 

The pressure increases when she fits herself to him and it happens exactly like he knew it would. It drops like a stone down the middle of him, there’s a shift and a ‘click’, the last piece of the puzzle. Whether she realises it yet or not, she’s stuck with him now. 

She’s got him caught up by the front of his jacket and the leather squeaks and sighs in the clutch of her fingers and he can’t think straight. All the times he’d dreamed about her hands being on him. 

Her body against him like this is a gift he thought she’d never give. Her mouth is a revelation. He searches out the softness of her skin. First the bits he’s learned by sight. He cradles the cool length of her neck, because he always wanted to know if she’ll shiver when he runs his finger from her hairline down beneath her collar. He traces the shell of her ear, brushes the apple of her cheek. It’s a start and it’s perfect, but he wants to know all of her. 

Finn bends himself to her, his grasp moving, greedily exploring. He’s hard for her and he wants her to know that it’s all her doing. He rests his hips against her and squeezes the delicious curve of her arse. He drags his eyes open to watch. Rae gasps a tiny ‘o’ and it’s devastating and addictive. She grips him harder, gently buffeting against him as if they were floating in a deep dark sea of green. She presses back into him with equal enthusiasm. She’s a natural, her mouth hungry and insistent, expertly drawing soft vowel sounds from Finn’s throat. He’s going to die here. They’ll find nothing but a little pile of ash and leather. 

“Did I mention inappropriate touching? I meant to.” He murmurs, barely moving his mouth from her mouth. “Lots and lots of...” 

“Walk before you run, okay Nelson? Let’s see how the kissing thing goes, shall we?” she chides him, before she falls on him again. He can taste the smile in her kiss and when her hands go through his hair he all but swoons. 

The kissing goes great and for a long, long time. So great, in fact, that between it and the face-splitting grin he’s wearing, his jaw is starting to ache, but there’s no way he’s stopping. He will stand here by the side of the road in the growing dark surrounded by bugs and foxes and all manner of weird night-things as long as he can keep kissing her. He doesn’t even care about the hooting and jeering coming from passing traffic, not even when he recognises the familiar grind of the not-quite-in-gear engine of Chop’s Peugeot 205. 

Despite all her bravado, Rae becomes a little skittish when the car idles beside them and Finn swears by all that is holy that he will kill Chop a thousand times over, if he does anything to shatter the divinity of this moment. He can’t have that, so while Chop makes crude jokes and the others whoop and holler, Finn keeps his mouth on hers, not sparing a single breath to tell them all to bugger off, just gathers Rae up closer, hums his pleasure across her tongue. He won’t risk even the slight movement of extending his middle finger to flip them off in case the spell breaks; instead, he chooses to ignore them until they get bored and drive off. He’s beside himself that she does too. 

Whatever happens next is entirely up to Rae. If she wants to find their friends and dance, he’ll dance, if she wants to ride around all night, just them and the dark, he’ll drive, and if she wants to see where all this kissing leads, Finn is more than happy to oblige. 

This here and now is their beginning and he can’t wait to see where it takes them. 


End file.
